


Look at me. Look at me!

by EnjolrasTheRevolutionary



Series: I'm alive [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Don’t copy to another site, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 06:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19056664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnjolrasTheRevolutionary/pseuds/EnjolrasTheRevolutionary
Summary: Grantaire just wants Enjolras to look at him. (Direct sequel to Yeah, bye)





	Look at me. Look at me!

**Author's Note:**

> Grantaire tries to get Enjolras attention. In whatever way he can. Set a few days after "Yeah, bye"

Eventually, people stopped coming, on Enjolras request.

Grantaire felt  _relieved._

Maybe now Enjolras would at last speak to him. 

"Enjolras?" Grantaire didn't dare speak too loudly in case he'd startle him. 

Still nothing. 

"You're  _dead_!" Was the one thing Enjolras said after a few minutes.

Dead? Yes, but far from gone.

"Apollo." Grantaire said. 

"No, it's not  _you_!" Enjolras had grabbed one of the couch pillows and now threw it, straight at Grantaire. 

"Okay, if I still had a body, that'd hurt." Grantaire stated. 

"Why are you here?! Who are you?!" Enjolras was yelling now, anger, grief and pain shone in his eyes. Tears ran down his cheeks. 

"It's me, Enjolras." Grantaire wished he could just... comfort him. 

"I'm seeing things... you're not  _real_!" 

Enjolras was crying harder now and never had Grantaire wished he was still alive more than right there. 

 "I am real!" Grantaire's voice  echoed through the apartment. 

"No you're dead! Go away! You're not real, it's all in my head!" Enjolras shouted. 

Grantaire sighed, and retreated away. 

Perhaps Enjolras wasn't ready to see the truth yet. The pain was still too fresh, and he was far from okay. 

"Joly? Sorry to disturb you, but... I think I'm losing it. Yeah. I'm seeing things." Enjolras sounded calm, not like he was saying 'I'm seeing things' more like he was saying 'Huh. It's raining.' 

"I'm seeing Grantaire, but I know it's not him." Pause.

"Yeah. I think it's just my brain playing tricks on me, too. Thanks Joly." Enjolras put the phone down. 

Grantaire had noticed that Enjolras was "sleeping" on the couch these days. He'd curl up with one of Grantaire's shirts, still paint stained from when they repainted the bedroom at 3:00 in the morning. Why? Well they had paint, and none of them could sleep. Grantaire had, purposefully, put paint on Enjolras, everywhere. In his hair, on his cheeks and on his nose. 

They had laughed then. Grantaire remembered it clearly. How much he had loved that moment, and Enjolras in that moment. 

It wasn't that long ago either, just a month earlier. 

Enjolras seemed to remember it too. He closed his eyes, pressed the shirt tightly to his chest and eventually, Grantaire heard his crying fade, and his breathing evened out, as sleep claimed him. 

"I'm so sorry Apollo... it shouldn't be like this ... " Grantaire whispered.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments make me happy. Please leave some if you liked this :) Oor... you can check my Tumblr. @Enjolrastherevolutionary.


End file.
